


Ich seh die Sterne Nicht

by HistoriaGloria



Series: Six Inches to Left [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU: Class Swap, Archfey Frumpkin, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Warning: Trent Ikithon, fic based on art, warlock caleb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoriaGloria/pseuds/HistoriaGloria
Summary: 'Frumpkin has a very peculiar connection to the material plane.'A short story of how Frumpkin met Caleb Widogast and how he helped.





	Ich seh die Sterne Nicht

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO!! Yet again, Strawberry Fox loves me and I love them and this is apparently becoming a series.  
Here they are, the absolutely wonderful [Strawberry Fox](https://twitter.com/_StrawberryFox_?s=17)!
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this and please please check out Strawberry's art on twitter or Instagram; it is phenomenal.
> 
> Okay so I just don't think I know how to use AO3 so I can't embed the art but it is here!: [Strawberry Fox Art](https://twitter.com/_StrawberryFox_/status/1177253659505287168?s=20) Title is from the Christina Sturmer song, Mama Ana Ahabak and translates to 'I cannot see the stars' Excellent Caleb song.

Frumpkin has a very peculiar connection to the material plane.

His name is not actually Frumpkin, obviously - he _is_ an Archfey. But names have power, especially for an archfey and he'd rather be safe than sorry.

He controls a rather small glen in the Moonbrush part of the Feywild, but he doesn't mind that it’s small. There is an opening to the material plane there. It's a tiny tear in reality, hidden deep in a dense copse of trees on the Northern area of the continent of Wildemount.

His tiny tear is much smaller than the one which emerges into the frozen forest far west of him, but it gives him access to the Material Plane should he need or desire it. Admittedly, Frumpkin doesn't use it very much. He has enough to occupy himself with in the Feywild, so it is more of an escape when he's tired of the eternal dusk. He likes to watch the stars and the sunrise on the Material Plane. Time passes so very slowly for creatures like him.

So, it is fairly surprising when things change abruptly.

Frumpkin is sat, meditating close to the portal when he feels a disturbance on the other side. On the Material Plane. It feels... desperate. Like someone begging for help. His yellow eyes shoot open and he frowns, furred brow creasing. A disturbance like that could mean a humanoid in his copse, which would be incredibly unusual.

He slips through the portal, intending on helping this visitor when he notices them.

It's a human - man? Child? He has such difficulty knowing when humans are fully grown. The human has collapsed scant metres away from the portal, head pressed against a tree. From behind him, Frumpkin can see that he is a mess. His hair, ginger like the fur that covers his own body, is matted and tangled. His feet are raw and bloody, bare to the elements and he wears clothing that has been torn ragged.

The human appears to be crying. He is trembling, whispering quietly in a language Frumpkin does not speak.

“_Mama, Vatti, es tut mir Leid, bitte, es tut mir Leid. Mama, hilf mir, hilf mir! Bitte... bitte, hilf mir. Jeder? Bitte..._”

Frumpkin frowns, placing his feet on the snow-covered ground and shuddering a little to feel the chill in the Material Plane. It must be winter.

The human doesn't know he is there yet. The snow must be so cold on this poor man in his ragged clothes. He seems so distressed. Frumpkin can't understand the words the human is using but he can sense the intent, the desperate begging for help, for forgiveness. It is what has drawn him to this shaking man.

Frumpkin (unlike a lot of archfey) cared less about chaos and adventure, and more about... beings. He cares about them being safe and happy. If he can lend them some power for that, he will.

“Child?” Frumpkin tries, in Common and the human jolts sharply, turning in surprise.

“_Wie_... Ah, um,” he stutters and Frumpkin slowly kneels on the snow-covered ground, his long flowing robes gathering around him.

“I'm sorry for startling you. You're in my grove,” he explains, and the man shuffles uncomfortably.

“Oh, I am very sorry. I shall, I shall leave.”

“No, no, child. You are distressed. I want to help, if I can,” Frumpkin says, which the human seems almost confused by.

“Help?”

“You were crying for help. I could hear you,” he says softly and leans back on his heels. The man finally looks up at him, his blue eyes wide and wet.

“You are fey,” he says, sounding dumbfounded. Frumpkin chuckles a little.

“Yes. I am an archfey. You can call me Frumpkin.”

“Is that, I do not think that is your real name,” says the human, but he doesn’t move away.

“You are correct,” says Frumpkin with amusement in his voice. “But names have power, child. This one is safe.”

“I can understand that. I know that feeling,” says the man, desperately rubbing at an item on a cord around his neck. “I ah… I am Caleb. Yes. Caleb Widogast.” Frumpkin tilts his head, interested. He knows that the man is lying. There is too much hesitation in his voice, too much worry for his name to truly be Caleb Widogast. But who is Frumpkin to judge?

“Hello, Caleb. Would you like some help?” he asks, gently threading an edge of persuasion into his voice, just a small amount of almost inexplicable draw for the man. Caleb blinks a little, looking confused by the tug of power and opens his mouth and then closes it again, drawing a nail over the vicious scars on his underarm.

“I, _ich,_” he manages to choke out and Frumpkin withdraws his tug of power. This man is not supported by this. It is not helping him and honestly, Frumpkin just cares about being able to be kind.

“It’s okay, Caleb,” he says, quietly as he shifts to sit cross-legged beneath a large tree, his robes arranged easily over his legs. “Are you okay?”

“Nein,” he says, shaking his head. “I am lost and afraid and hurt and I did such terrible things, terrible, awful things, I cannot ever be forgiven.” Frumpkin sighs, sat across from the man.

“I can… I can help you, if you want. I cannot heal you; it is not something I have any knowledge of. But I will promise to care for you. To protect you and be there for you,” he says. This is something he hasn’t undertaken in a long time. It has been such a while since Frumpkin has been a patron; it is not something which concerns him a lot. His power is not great enough to be consistently called upon.

“What are you offering me?” says Caleb, a little too shrewd. Frumpkin sighs. He is not trying to lie to the man, but in his meagre experience, humans take better to not understanding their pact.

“I’m offering you power. I’m offering you magic.” Caleb scratches at the raised scars on his arm, chewing his lip.

“And what do you take in return? What do you use to hurt me, to destroy me?”

“I don’t take anything, Caleb,” Frumpkin assures him gently. “I just want… adventure. A change of scenery. But most of all, I want you to stop crying.” The human touches his cheek as though he hadn’t realised that tears are dripping down his face.

“People always wanted things in return for magic, T-tre-trent,” he chokes on the name and Frumpkin reaches out, running the tips of his lightly furred fingers over Caleb’s wrist as he claws at his arms.

“I am not this person. I am Frumpkin and I’m an archfey and I’m here to help you, Caleb,” he says, his charm constant and relaxing. Around them, the temperature seems to drop slightly as it begins to softly snow. Caleb shudders but he doesn’t pull his arm away from Frumpkin’s touch.

“To help?” Caleb echoes, his voice pitching in worry.

“To help,” Frumpkin reassures. He shifts so he is sat a little closer, his back against the nearest tree as the snow continues to fall, slowly getting heavier. Caleb shivers, looking cold and Frumpkin flicks his hand, altering the temperature around them to a more comfortable level.

“I want, I need… magic is something I am good at,” Caleb admits, glancing briefly up at Frumpkin.

“I can help you with magic. I can give you different power.” He flicks his ear to move a long lock of hair out of his face. “I can give you something that will feel different.” Caleb pauses for a second and nods a little.

“I want that. I need that power to be safe. You want to come with me, southwards?”

“Yes, I do. I want to be able to support you. I can make you very scary or very charming. People will trust you if you need it.” Caleb inhales and exhales so slowly that Frumpkin can see it. The poor man looks absolutely exhausted. “I am offering you a pact, Caleb. Is that okay?”

There is quiet for a long moment.

“Ja. Yes. That is okay. I accept.”

There is a shift in both of them. Frumpkin feels suddenly, undeniably connected to this lost, afraid, freezing man. There is a part of him within Caleb and vice versa and it is going to protect them both. Caleb seems a little drawn to him as he leans closer and Frumpkin accepts him immediately, arms open wide.

Caleb shifts, moving to press his body up against the long flowing robes of Frumpkin, laid across his lap. And the archfey is yet again aware of how cold this man is so he increases the temperature around them ever so slightly.

“Rest now, my charge. I will watch over you throughout the night. Nothing will harm you anymore.” Caleb collapses against his legs, eyes closing immediately. And in seconds, the human is fast asleep.

Frumpkin looks down at him and smiles, gently stroking down the matted ginger hair. He will help and support him as best he can. After all, this is his warlock now.

**Author's Note:**

> The German translates to "Mother, Father, I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry! Mother, help me, help me! Please... please, help me. Anyone? Please..."


End file.
